Vengeance
by gamer072196
Summary: A short story following our human hating city elf from TLFW, Darrian Tabris. Learn how his deep hatred for humans began in this prequel to TLFW.
1. Chapter 1

"Cousin, wake up."

Darrian groaned as he slowly sat up on his bed, trying to rub the grogginess out of his eyes. He blinked a few times and shook his head before looking toward his cousin, Shianni. "Mmm… what? I was sleeping," he complained.

"Did you forget what today was?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Huh?"

"It's your birthday."

His eyes widened and he quickly stood up. "Sod, I completely forgot. Where are Mother and Father?"

"They said they would be waiting for you near the gate to the market. You should hurry."

He nodded and followed Shianni out of the door, heading toward the gate his parents were waiting at. The alienage was somewhat busy as usual, many of the elves wishing him a happy birthday as he walked past. He was nineteen now, and today he was supposed to receive a special gift from his mother. He wasn't sure what it was, but that didn't keep him from wondering. She was practical, so it must be something useful. Nothing frivolous, he knew. Then again, even if she wasn't the practical woman she was, he probably wouldn't receive anything fancy anyway. His family never had much coin, but that didn't stop his father from attempting to get him something nice on his birthday. Sometimes he did get something nice. Almost too nice. They said that they saved up for it, but he had a feeling that they weren't exactly telling the truth. He never questioned them on it, though. He knew better than to ask questions like that.

He approached the gate and saw his parents standing there, waiting for him.

"So you are finally up, Darrian?" his father said, smiling and crossing his arms.

"Did you think I would sleep through my birthday, Father?" He smiled back.

"Honestly? Yes, I think you would." He chuckled to himself.

"Are we going to the market?"

"Yes, we are."

His mother smiled and motioned for everyone to follow her. "Come with me," she said.

* * *

When they had gotten to the market, his parents had led him to a merchant and handed him a pouch of five sovereigns. They told him to buy whatever he wanted, so he bought himself a book on strategy and another on the Witches of the Wilds. The merchant raised an eyebrow when he saw the strategy book, but when he noticed the pouch of sovereigns that had been handed to him, he quickly forgot about it.

Darrian's mother said that she had another gift waiting for him at home, but she had to do something and wouldn't return home until evening. She told his father not to give it to him until she came back, since it was her gift.

They had been waiting all day for her to return. The sun had already set and the moon had replaced it, but she still hadn't come home. He was starting to get worried.

"Where is she?" he asked, hoping for an answer.

"I do not know," his father responded. "It is late."

"Do you think she is alright?"

He smiled. "Do not worry. Your mother can handle herself."

"I know, Father. She has been teaching me to fight since I could walk."

He chuckled to himself. "And she has taught you well. As I said: do not worry. I am sure she is fine."

"I hope so, Father."

"Maybe you should read your books. It will occupy your mind until your mother returns."

"… alright. I'll read."

He turned around and looked at his two books. He contemplated reading the one on the Witches of the Wilds, but he really wanted to read the one on strategy. So he picked it up and sat down in his bed. He began reading, skipping the first chapter because it was about what strategy was and how it was important. The next chapter was on the basics of combat: planning ahead, maneuvering troops, coordinating movements, etc. The next was going over historical battles of importance. Most of them were battles against the darkspawn, though one caught his eye. The Battle of River Dane, where Loghain had defeated Orlais despite being out-numbered by chevaliers. Loghain had drawn the Orlesian forces toward him and made them follow his men toward River Dane, where he had half of them hide in a nearby forest while the rest stayed in a nearby valley with a steep hill on each side, waiting for the chevaliers to charge. The chevaliers passed by the forest that hid Loghain's men and attacked. When all the chevaliers had entered the valley, the rest of Loghain's men charged at the chevaliers from behind, catching them off-guard and trapping them. Despite their lack of numbers, Loghain's men had pushed the chevaliers on both sides until they couldn't move, allowing for Loghain to win the battle.

That was the battle that made Loghain a hero. He won through superior tactics rather than brute force and numbers. Darrian hoped that he could become a great general some day, but he knew it wasn't possible. He was an elf. They didn't allow elves to become soldiers, let alone officers.

He continued reading, starting to become more and more interested in the tactics the Grey Wardens employed to battle the darkspawn and end each of the four Blights. He found it odd that there was no mention of the Grey Wardens who killed each archdemon after each final battle. He assumed it was because they had nothing to do after the Blight, so there was nothing worth mentioning.

As he read, he started feeling more and more tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and focus on reading. He knew he had read the same sentence five times, but he was too tired to care. Eventually, he feel asleep with his book in his hand.

* * *

He found himself being shaken awake. He opened his eyes to see Shianni over him, her hands gripping his shoulders.

"Again?" he moaned. "Why can't I just sleep in?"

"Darrian, it's your mother," she said in a near panic.

His eyes widened and he quickly sat up, his book falling to the floor. "What happened?! Is she alright?"

"I don't know. Your father said that she never came home last night." He noticed the panic in her eyes and her voice.

"Where is he?"

"He is out looking for her with Valendrian and a few others."

"Alright. Find Soris and meet me near the gate to the market."

"Why?"

"We are going to look for her too."

"But, your father told me not to let you look for her. He's worried that something will happen to you."

"I don't care. I'm going to find her with, or without your help." He stood up and started walking out the door before Shianni stopped him.

"Fine, I go find Soris and meet you at the gate."

He smiled. "Thanks."


	2. Chapter 2

He had been waiting for a few minutes when Shianni and Soris finally came running to him.

"I heard what happened," Soris said, stopping right in front of him. "I hope your mother is alright."

"I do too," he replied. "We'll search the market, then the alleys."

Soris and Shianni nodded and they followed him through the gate and to the market.

* * *

The searched the market all day, but there was no sign of his mother anywhere. They asked around and found that she had headed to the docks

They followed the alleys, always keeping an eye out for Darrian's mother. They walked for about an hour before he saw something further ahead, poking around a corner.

"Wait," he said. "You two stay here. I see something up ahead." He slowly walked forward, taking light steps and controlling his breathing to be as quiet as possible. He didn't know what he would find around the corner, but he was almost sure that it wasn't good. Slowly, carefully, he walked to the corner, taking cover behind it. Slowly, he peeked his head around the corner. He looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. When he looked at what lay on the ground, his eyes widened in shock.

"No…" He rounded the corner and ran toward the body that lay, face-first, on the ground, a pool of dried blood surrounding it. He crouched next to the body, rolling it over and examining it. He felt tears form behind his eyes as he realized that the body he had found… was his mother. "No… NO!" He heard a two pairs of footsteps approach him, followed by a short gasp.

He examined her body and saw that she had several deep gashes on her arms and legs, another going right through her abdomen. Her knuckles were split, indicating that she put up a fight. He tried to continue examining her, but his vision began to blur as tears welled up in his eyes.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and he hung his head, closing his eyes and holding his mother's body close to him.

"I… I'll find your father," he heard Soris say from behind him. He didn't respond. He just continued holding his mother's body, tears running down his face.

* * *

They held her funeral the next day. He couldn't help but notice how peaceful she looked as her pyre was lit. It was a stark contrast to how she was murdered. He was devastated. He didn't know what to do. All he wanted was to find whoever did this and make them pay. He wouldn't be satisfied unless it was he who made them pay. He felt like it was up to him.

His mother taught him how to fight and fight well. He saw no reason why he couldn't use the skills she taught him to avenge her death. She taught him to fight dirty, use anything and everything around him to win. He had grown strong in the years that she had been training him. He was the strongest person in the alienage, though that wasn't saying much considering how elves weren't naturally strong. His mother had taught him to use his strength to his advantage. She also taught him to move faster and think quicker than any foe he could face. She even taught him how to quickly disarm an opponent and use their weapon against them. She taught him how to evade attacks and how to use any weapon he would encounter, whether it be longswords or crossbows. He also knew how to defend himself from any kind of weapon or attack.

If he was going to find his mother's murderer- or murderers-, he needed to find anyone who saw what happened. If anyone saw anything at all.

He heard a pair of footsteps approach him from his left and looked to see his father walking up to him. He looked as if he had aged thirty years in a day. His steps were somewhat sluggish, making it seem like he had weights on his ankles.

"Darrian…," he said, sounding exhausted. "We… should go home. You should… get some rest."

Darrian shook his head. "I do not need any rest, Father," he replied, setting his jaw. "You go home and rest. I will find whoever killed Mother and make them pay."

"Don't. Please, do not make things worse."

"Worse? How could things possibly get **worse**? Mother is dead and no one else is doing anything about it!"

"There is nothing we can do."

"So you are going to let her killer walk away?! If no one will help me, I will find whoever did this myself!" He balled his hands into tight fists as his anger grew.

"Please, Darrian. I don't want to lose you too."

"I don't care!" He immediately regretted saying that, but he continued anyway. "I would rather die finding Mother's killer, than live without avenging her!"

He started walking toward the market before he felt his father's hand grip his shoulder. "Darrian… please, don't do this."

He shrugged him off. "I need to, Father. I just… I can't let whoever did this get away with it. I'd feel like I failed her if I didn't avenge her." He turned and continued walking to the market, leaving his father standing alone. _I will avenge you Mother. I promise._

* * *

He returned to the alley where he found his mother. He looked around, trying to ignore the dried pool of blood that still remained. He noticed three humans talking to each, seeming like they were trying to ignore the blood too. He walked up to them, getting their attention as he asked, "Did you see what happened to the woman that was there yesterday?" He pointed to the blood.

They shook their heads, but something was off. He could tell they were lying. Another thing his mother had taught him: how to read people's body language to tell what they were actually feeling or if they were lying. He smiled inwardly at the thought that she was still helping him, even after death.

He asked again, this time with an edge to his tone. Again, they all shook their heads, but they were more hesitant this time. Again, he repeated the question, adding more of an edge to his tone. This time, one of them said, "Uh… yes, but we aren't supposed to say anything."

"Shut it, Lee," another said. "Do you know what'll happen to us if they find out you told anyone?

"You two are both idiots," the third said. "Now he knows that we saw what happened to that elf."

Darrian glared at them. "That 'elf' was my mother," he growled. "Tell me who killed her."

"Sorry, but we can't," 'Lee' said. "I'm sorry to hear that it was your mother, but if we tell you, we're as good as dead."

"I only need one of you alive to get answers." He clenched his fists tightly. "Start talking."

"I… uh…"

His patience was running thin. "Just tell me!"

"Alright, alright! There was three of 'em. They surrounded your mother and started yellin' at her about something, but I don't know what. They pulled out their swords and swung at her, but she was gone before they realized it. She didn't have any weapons, but she put up a real good fight. Gave one of 'em a black eye and broke another's nose." He couldn't help but smile inwardly at hearing that. "Then, one of 'em got her in the arm before another got her leg. She got away from them, but she got hit in the other leg before she was run through."

"Who were they?"

"Uh… one was a skinny fellow with blonde hair. Squirrelly kind of fellow, too. Another was tall with black hair. He looked really strong. I think I seen him near the tavern in the market."

"The Gnawed Noble?"

"That's the one."

"And the third one?"

"He was a head shorter than the tall one and he had red hair. I think he was the leader."

"Any idea where he is?"

Lee shook his head. "I don't know. Wish I could help you."

"Hmm… fine."

He turned and headed back to the market as he heard one of them call out, "What are ya gonna do when you find 'em?" He ignored them and continued walking. _Blasted humans…_


	3. Chapter 3

He had been waiting in the market place for over two weeks, discreetly keeping an eye on the Gnawed Noble as he searched for anyone matching the description he was given. So far with no luck. _Tall, strong, black hair… Where the sod is this bastard?_

He had told his father that he had given up the search after three days. He had also told him that he was going for drinks whenever he left the alienage for the market. He had to sneak out of the alienage once or twice, but other than that he had no trouble. He knew that people were starting to get suspicious about his daily presence, but he wasn't about to trust someone to keep an eye out for him. For all he knew, it would end up with the men that had killed his mother coming after him. It was safer for him to do it alone. The less people that knew, the better. If no one other than himself knew, that was the best way he could play it… at least, until it came to actually facing the men.

_ Black hair, tall… no. Too thin._ The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would have to make sure that the man he was waiting for wouldn't saying anything to his partners. Most likely, he would end up killing him. But, then how would he get the man to tell him the truth? The best way would be to threaten him with death, saying that he would let him live if he told him everything. He'd have to hurt him. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him **think** he would. It wouldn't be hard if the man was unarmed and not wearing armor. If he was armed and armored- which seemed far more likely-, he'd have to immobilize him and try to use his weapons as tools of torture.

_ Sod… going to need somewhere quiet for that._ He thought of several places, most of which weren't close enough to be viable. That left only one place that he could think of: the warehouse behind the tavern. He had checked it out earlier in case it was where the men who killed his mother were based. He ruled that out as a possibility after a few days, but he was able to figure out the guard's patrol schedule. They came by every four to five hours, but never went inside. He hadn't seen any guards enter or leave the warehouse, so he assumed that no one was in there in the first place.

_ Hmm… Tall, black hair… strong. That must be him._ The man was walking toward the tavern, clad in what looked like heavy chainmail armor. Luckily, he also had a sword on him, so Darrian could use that to get some answers if he could immobilize him. He walked over to the tavern, taking a more zigzagged path towards it so he wouldn't attract attention. He saw the man go into the tavern before he walked up and turned around, leaning his back on the wall next to the door. He let his eyes wander, staying perfectly aware of the door as he did. He noticed a patrol leaving from the direction the warehouse was in. They passed by him without a glance as he tried to look like he was waiting impatiently for someone. It seemed to work at not attracting attention.

He felt a slight breeze as the door swung open a while later, though he didn't move an inch. He glanced toward the door and saw that the man he had been looking for was standing next to him, seeming drunk. The man was a good three or four heads taller than Darrian, but he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight in his drunken state. He also probably would be more likely to let information slip.

He offered to guide the man home, which seemed to work surprisingly enough. He led the man to the right, going around the corner and heading towards the warehouse. The man seemed more focused on trying not to trip over his own feet, looking straight down at them.

They eventually made it into the warehouse, Darrian grabbing a chair for the man to sit on before looking for something to tie him down with. The man was swaying in the chair, almost to the point of nearly falling off. Darrian was able to find some cloths and used them to tie the man's hands to the back of the chair, each ankle to one of the front legs. The man was so out of it that he didn't care. Either that, or his drunkenness allowed him to not notice it.

Darrian stood in front of the man before asking, "Do you remember killing an elven woman a couple of weeks ago?" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but failed.

"Huh?" the man started. "Oh, yeah. We killed that knife-ear good an dead!" He was slurring, making it tricky to understand him.

Darrian felt a surge of anger pulse through him. The man seemed to be **proud** of it. He forced himself to keep his composure. If he killed the man now, he'd never find the others. "You and who?"

"Ha! The best swor- swo- fighters I ever met!"

_ Why am I asking for names? I need to know where they are._ "Where are they?"

"Heh-heh-heh, what in it for me?"

"More drinks." It was a bluff, but one that a drunkard wouldn't ignore.

"Ha! Ha-ha! Ya got a deal!"

"So where are they?"

"Heh-heh, we meet at the-" a loud belch, followed hysterical laughter, "at the alley behind the Pearl. All dem ladies… Mmm…" He closed his eyes and tilted his head backward, smiling widely at whatever thoughts or memories were floating around in his mind.

Darrian knew he couldn't leave any evidence that he had killed the man here. Namely blood. He had to kill him cleanly and quickly, leaving no visible signs of trauma. He took the opportunity to walk behind the man, grab the top of his head and his chin, and twist the man's head violently, a loud 'crack' sounding as the man's neck snapped like a twig.

He stood there for a few moments, looking at the body of one of the men who had killed his mother. He had wanted to make him suffer, to make him feel the pain he felt. He had wanted to make the man's death a slow and painful one, but he had to keep a level head now. He needed to think of how to get rid of the body.

_ Leave him to rot_, a dark part of his mind said, the part that was consumed with rage. He shook his head. _No… no. I can't leave the body here. There'll be an investigation. I need to get rid of it._ He remembered the well by the Chantry. It was deep enough that anything dumped in it would float out of the city. By the time anyone found the body- if anyone ever did- there would be no way to tell where it had come from, let alone who killed him.

He would need to stick to the back alleys as much as possible. He needed to make it look like he was just trying to take a passed-out-drunk friend home, so that ruled out throwing him over his shoulders. He would have to throw one of the arms over his shoulders and try to support his weight. It would be a strain, but he had been building his strength in hopes that one day, he would be able to wield a greatsword effortlessly. He was well on his way, but he hadn't reached that point yet.

He untied the body from the chair before throwing the cloths behind some crates, lifting the arm over his shoulder and taking the body's full weight. He kicked the chair to the side before walking- well, more like shuffling- over to the door. He opened the door a crack with his free hand, seeing no one outside. He opened the door completely and moved out the door, struggling to close the door behind him while carrying the body. _This is going to be interesting…_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_ And now the conclusion.

* * *

The man was heavier than he looked, especially with armor on. He was struggling to carry him through the back alleys toward the Chantry. So far no one had noticed him, but he wasn't sure how long that would last. He almost tripped over a rock that was half-buried in the ground, but he managed to right himself at the last moment.

He was passing the marketplace, the merchants advertising their goods at the top of their lungs in an attempt to lure customers. All the merchants were human, as usual, though there were a few dwarves passing through. They looked armed to the teeth and everyone gave them a wide berth.

He wasn't intimidated, though. He had just killed a man and was trying to dump the body in a well that was on the opposite side of the marketplace. He didn't know anyone who would even think about doing what he was doing, but that wasn't going to stop him. It was completely likely that he was far from the first one to attempt such a feat.

He was almost to the Chantry now. All he had to do was go around the wall and the well would be on his right. He was getting physically exhausted. He wasn't sure if he would be able to make it to the well, but he forced himself to keep going. He had to. If he kept still for too long, the guards would get suspicious and he wasn't sure if he could convince them that he was simply taking a drunken friend home.

He managed to round the corner and reached the well. He tossed- well, more like dropped- the body down the well, watching as it fell into the water below. He remembered the sword that the man had on him. He could have used that to fight the other two he now had to find. Then again, an elf walking around with a sword and no armor would look suspicious to a guard, so it was probably for the best. Now he had to go to the alley behind the Pearl. _I can finally get justice for you, Mother…_

* * *

After zigzagging through the streets for an hour or two, he found the alley behind the Pearl. He had been to the Pearl once when he was drinking with Soris and a few friends. He was lucky he didn't catch anything from the women there. From what he remembered, they looked a bit 'dirty' in the first place. Then again, he was drunk so he wasn't exactly thinking straight.

He looked around and saw no one, so he decided to wait. He started thinking about what he would do to kill the men he was hunting. He would probably have to disarm one of them and use their weapon or weapons. Even then, it would probably be a lopsided fight simply because he didn't have armor. He would have to keep moving, make sure they couldn't hit him. There was only two of them left so he would have a better chance than his mother did, though it still wasn't ideal.

He hadn't even realized he had been waiting for about a half hour when the two men he was waiting for showed up. They looked so **smug**, walking like they owned the city and everyone in it. _Typical thugs._

By the time he realized that he was marched toward them, he was halfway there. They had noticed him and turned to face him, both of them with annoyed scowls on their faces.

"What're **you** looking at, elf?" the red-haired one said, the annoyance in his tone obvious.

"A couple of pathetic **shems** who prey on unarmed elves," he growled in response. He hadn't even realized what he had said until after he spoke.

He saw both of the men glare at him. "You've got a lot of nerve, **knife-ear**," the blonde-haired one spat.

"And you're both pathetic. That's why it took three of you to kill my mother!" He was clenching his fists tightly. He wasn't even thinking now. It was like he was watching as someone controlled his body rather than acting out of impulse.

The red-haired one raised an eyebrow. "You mean that little knife-eared **wench** we killed a few weeks ago?"

Darrian was now breathing through his nose heavily in anger. He glared at the men in front of him and his fists tightened. "How **dare** you speak about her like that." He wanted to **move**. He wanted to take out his anger on the men in front of him and anyone else in his way.

"What are you going to do about it, **knife-ear**?" Both the men in front of him crossed their arms across their chests.

That was more than he could take. He tackled the red-haired one to the ground, punching his face as hard as he could repeatedly. He then found himself being lifted into the air, armored arms wrapping around his stomach. He shook violently, trying to escape the man's grasp and continue his onslaught. The red-haired man slowly got up, his right eye swollen and purplish-black in color along with a busted lip and broken nose.

"Argh… I **really** wish you hadn't done that," he said.

Darrian spit into his good eye and jerked his head backward violently, connecting with the bridge of the man's nose and breaking it. He lunged at the red-haired one again, forcing him to the ground a second time. He started punching his face again, harder this time to ensure permanent damage at the very least.

He found himself laying on the ground on his back, the blonde-haired man charging at him with his longsword and dagger. He rolled backward to get to his feet before ducking under a swing and punching right into the man's gut. Air rushed out of the man's lungs from the blow, stunning him long enough for Darrian to grab the man's throat tightly and repeatedly punch him in the face again and again. The man's hands released his weapons and rose to his throat in an attempt to pry Darrian's hand off, to no avail. Eventually, the man's arms went limp as Darrian continued his onslaught until he found himself on the ground yet again.

The red-haired man was standing over him with a shield and longsword, his face beaten and broken. He thrust toward Darrian's chest and Darrian rolled over onto his stomach to avoid it, pushing himself off the ground and facing his opponent. He ducked a swing and punched the man in the chest, denting his armor. The man was forced backwards a step from the force of the blow, struggling to regain his balance. Darrian roared with rage as he tackled the man to the ground a third time, renewing his onslaught on the man's face. He continued swinging over and over again, never letting up or slowing.

* * *

He woke up on the ground, rain starting to fall from the sky. His hands were roaring in pain as was his side and back. His head ached too. As he raised his hand, he noticed that it was covered in a red substance. He examined the substance, realizing that his other hand was covered in it too, as was his clothes. Then he noticed the two mangled bodies lying a few feet away from him.

He knew that he was covered in their blood and almost started to panic. He slowly stood up, ignoring the pain that wracked his body as he did so. He needed to change, needed to clean himself and leave no evidence that he was the one who killed them. He looked over and saw a clothesline; a tunic, a pair of trousers, and several cloths hanging from it. He pulled off his blood-soaked clothes, tossing them far away from him as he grabbed one of the cloths and wiped the blood off of him. After he cleaned off his hands, he realized that his knuckles were split and bleeding somewhat. He tossed the cloths where he had tossed his clothes before grabbing the trousers and tunic off the line, pulling them on.

He turned around and looked at the carnage that he had caused. Both of the men's faces had been beaten in, a dark red mass filling the deep indents. Their armor was dented with fist-sized indents and there was blood everywhere, pooling around them.

He forced himself to look away. He turned and ran, heading back to alienage, blocking out the pain and exhaustion. It was then that he realized that what he wanted was not justice, but **vengeance**… and he got it.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ Hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Darrian's past. Don't worry, there will be plenty more of Darrian in TLFW. I have big plans for him, so please continue reading and reviewing. Your support means a lot!


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